Tongue Waggle

H-E could hardly believe she’d got out of 9 East 71st Street with her soul intact.

She gets out into the street of Mannahattas, glad to be alive. She’s free. Then she sees, there on the sidwalk this little child, clutching the bare concrete, but getting warmth, H-E’s task master has carefully arranged, for his own, stinking ass benefit, not to rob the neighborhood’s enterprising from Harlem get a swab, get a swabbie, get a staunch, or a blood, or a napkin, or a lightly pressed go along, but certainly not anticipating one of his feminine napkins able to see need, not luxury.

H-E is a threat, but H-E is glad to have a cuddly child to cuddle, nurture, provide with information, the best books, and leaves 9 East 71st Street on the skidaddle, for freedom beats information + wealth, as is love, and 9 East 71st Street has none.

Further down the street is the Statue of Liberty.

This little child, H-E can carry efficiently, especially if she nestles its pretty yet hungry face against her kaboodle. This is not an infant. This is a little child who is far beyond sucking on model’s perfect teats, or sniffing a mother’s genitals to give warmth and security.